


Blessings and Curses

by scgirl_317



Series: The Rose and the Dragon [3]
Category: Highlander: The Series, Torchwood
Genre: An alien artifact causes chaos, Family Drama, Ianto's an Immortal, Methos is Ianto's teacher, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scgirl_317/pseuds/scgirl_317
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Directly follows Any Port in a Storm. Gwen returns to find Methos and Phoenix in the Hub. A tech retrieval goes awry, affecting both Phoenix and Owen. A mystery Immortal stakes out the Plass. Ianto's training gets ratcheted up. And Jack is left trying to keep them from falling apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was initially posted on FF.net on Ianto Jones' 30th birthday. Here follows just one version of the happy ending he never got. Long may he be remembered.

It was late morning when Methos and Phoenix finally emerged from their temporary quarters. The first thing he wanted to do was arrange other housing and have their own things sent from where they were stored in London. Living in the Hub was all well and good for Jack, but Methos preferred to find something in Cardiff.

Tosh was working diligently, and Owen was in, if the curses drifting up from the autopsy bay were any indication. Ianto materialized before them with coffee. Jack was nowhere to be seen, and Ianto reported that he was on the phone with the Prime Minister.

Fortified with coffee, Phoenix joined Ianto in the archives. In the past week, she had easily picked up his system of organization, and with two people working, the archives were easily managed.

“You’ve taken to this remarkably well,” Ianto commented.

“After the first half-dozen tongue lashings I received from the head librarian at Rainier, I quickly learned her peculiar system,” Phoenix replied, continuing to crosscheck the list of artifacts before her. “Trust me, yours makes far more sense.”

“You should have seen this place when I first came here. Complete chaos. Torchwood Three hadn’t had a proper archivist in decades.”

“I can imagine Jack’s not the most organized person on Earth,” Phoenix smirked.

“It took me forever to get him to at least file things in alphabetical order,” Ianto groused, good-naturedly.

Phoenix laughed; she had no problem picturing that at all.

“May I ask a personal question?” Ianto asked cautiously.

“You may ask, but I can’t guarantee I’ll answer,” she returned. This had become a pattern for them: Ianto would ask about Immortality, or about Phoenix, and she answered as best she could. He had an insatiable thirst for knowledge, and soaked up everything Phoenix and Methos taught him.

Ianto hesitated for a moment before asking, “What is your name?”

Phoenix paused and looked at him closely. It was a perceptive question for him to ask, but also a dangerous one.

“That’s something you want to be very careful asking.”

“Oh, is it not allowed, or something?” Ianto asked.

“It’s not that it’s not allowed, more that it’s bad form. Kinda like asking a woman how old she is or how much she weighs. You can ask, but you may get smacked for it. Better for the other Immortal to offer their name. For those of us who change out identities every decade or so, giving our original name is often an explicit sign of trust. Same goes for age.”

Ianto began to stutter out an apology, but she swiftly silenced him, “I know you meant no harm. My parents gave me the name Little Bird. After my first death, the village chieftain changed my name to Fire Bird, and I remained such until about a hundred and fifty years ago.”

“Why did you change it?”

Phoenix sighed, “I was forced to leave my people. The people of my village had become accustomed to my Immortality, but when we were forced onto the reservation, I knew the soldiers posted there would begin to notice my not aging. It was a stroke of luck that the commander of the barracks was also Immortal. He made sure that none of the soldiers stayed for more than a few years so I wouldn’t arouse any suspicions. Unfortunately, a young soldier got trigger-happy, one day, and I was killed in front of a large crowd. Colonel Barrington and my chief, Red Fox, secreted my body away before I revived, and the Colonel helped to create a new identity for me. I ceased to be Fire Bird and became Clara Wheeler.”

They lapsed back into silence as they worked. When they emerged from the archives several hours later, Jack was still sequestered in his office. Tosh reported that Methos had gone out to inspect several viable flats while Ianto ordered lunch. Just then, the Rift alarm sounded.

“Rift spike out in Penarth,” Tosh announced. “Energy readings suggest non-organic material.”

“Debris, in other words,” Owen piped up. “Come on, Zorro, the two of us will go pick it up. Can you send me the address, Tosh?”

Phoenix grimaced at Owen’s chosen nickname for her as he got the coordinates of the rift spike. He had picked it up when he had spied her and Methos sparring, one afternoon, and he relished her annoyance at it. With a groan, she grabbed her sidearm and followed Owen to the garage.

Tosh directed them to the location of the rift spike, the third level of a parking structure. When they arrived, there was a metallic canister sitting rather inconspicuously next to a bright yellow Mini.

“That looks rather anticlimactic,” Phoenix commented as she and Owen pulled on gloves.

She stepped forward to take a closer look while Owen retrieved a containment vessel from the SUV. The scanner in her hand told her almost nothing.

“There’s a minimal energy reading, but other than that, nothing. Should be safe to handle as long as we don’t push any buttons.”

She and Owen knelt down to carefully lift the canister. However, once their hands touched it, it came to life. A golden glow began to emanate from the canister, growing to surround them. A multitude of smaller particles of light then broke off and congregated around each of them. Phoenix felt her body warm, but the particles seemed otherwise benign to her. Owen, however, was not so lucky. Pain seared across his chest as the particles closed in around him.

“Owen!” Phoenix cried out, letting go of the canister to keep Owen from falling to the ground. She had a brief thought to be thankful that he was as lean as he was, but that was quickly abandoned in favor of making sure he didn’t crack his head open on the pavement.

After what felt like an eternity, but was really only a few seconds, the particles retreated, the light dimmed, and the canister appeared as harmless as it had when they arrived. Owen groaned as he felt the initial flame subside from his veins, leaving a throbbing ache.

“Okay, come on, we need to get you back to the Hub immediately, but I need your help getting to the car,” Phoenix directed, pulling one of his arms across her shoulders.

It took some effort, with Owen leaning most of his weight onto Phoenix, but she managed to get him to the SUV and secured in the passenger seat. She dashed back to grab the canister and place it in the containment vessel Owen had retrieved.

As fast as she dared—Phoenix was still not used to driving on the left side of the road—she circled the bay back to Mermaid Quay and underground car park. En route, she called Tosh.

“I don’t know what’s happened, but Owen’s in trouble,” she said. “Get Ben, and have him meet us in the garage. I can’t get Owen into the Hub on my own.”


	2. Chapter 2

Tosh willed her heart to settle back in her chest when Phoenix ended the call. None of them liked to think that Owen’s time might run out. The thought that she might not get to say goodbye sat like a rock in her gut.

She was about to dial Methos’ number when the alarms signaled an arrival through the cog door. She jumped up, hoping it was the Immortal. Instead, Gwen Cooper came through. Tosh visibly deflated.

“Well, don’t look so happy to see me,” the Welshwoman stated, taken aback at Tosh’s reaction.

“Sorry, I thought you might be Ben,” Tosh replied, going back to her desk.

“Who?” Gwen asked.

“I ordered Thai for lunch, should be here in thirty minutes,” Ianto announced as he returned to the main Hub. “Oh, hello, Gwen. Didn’t expect you back until tomorrow.”

“Ianto, does Ben have his mobile with him?” Tosh interrupted.

“Yes, he called not long ago and said he was on his way back to the Hub. Why?”

Tosh didn’t bother answering. Instead she grabbed her phone and dialed, impatiently tapping her foot until there was an answer.

“Ben, listen, you need to get back here now. Anna and Owen went out on a Rift alert, and something happened to Owen. She’s bringing him back, but he needs help.”

“ _I’ll be right there, I’m pulling in_ ,” was all the response she got before the call disconnected.

“Okay, I’m missing something,” Gwen interrupted. “Who are Ben and Anna, and why was she on a Rift alert with Owen?”

Tosh froze, unsure of what to say. Thankfully, Ianto spoke up first.

“It’s a long story that I think would be better coming from Jack.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re going to have to curb your curiosity for the moment,” said Jack, coming down from his office. “What happened?”

“Not sure,” Tosh replied, snapping back into work mode. “All I know is that something happened when they approached the artifact that they were after. It affected Owen, but not her.”

“What the hell was Anna doing going out on a Rift alert with Owen, in the first place?” Methos demanded, storming back into the Hub.

“When the alert came in, it was deemed low-risk, non-organic material,” Tosh stepped in. “It just needed to be bagged and tagged; they would be there and back in thirty minutes.”

“Ben, even though I’ve got her down in the archives with Ianto, Anna’s gonna have to go out sometimes,” Jack added. “I try to make sure it’s not often, but it can’t be avoided. Now, are you gonna be like this each time she goes out, or do I have to remind you of how she reacted after you shot me?”

Methos gritted his teeth, but he sighed in resignation. He knew Jack had a point. Moreover, he knew Phoenix and Owen would be back any minute, and he didn’t have time to argue.

“You’re right, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Anna needs you to meet her in the garage,” Tosh told him. “She had trouble getting him into the SUV, and can’t get him into the Hub on her own.”

“Got it,” Methos replied, heading towards the autopsy bay.

He grabbed the Bekaran scanner and darted back out. As he headed down the tunnel towards the garage, he could hear Gwen ask heatedly, “Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

He heard footsteps behind him and saw Ianto following.

“Thought you might need another hand,” the Welshman answered the unasked question.

“Thanks.”

Moments after they reached the garage, the SUV arrived, screeching into place.

“And this is why we don’t let her drive,” Ianto remarked wryly.

Methos couldn’t help cracking a small smile at the young man’s wit as he approached the vehicle.

Phoenix got out and circled the vehicle, opening the door to pull Owen out. Methos’ eyes followed her watching for any sign of injury. She had reported that only Owen had been affected by whatever it was, but he needed to see for himself. Her movements gave nothing away, however, so he would have to wait for a less pressing moment to check her over.

Resigned to that, he approached Owen. The young man was contorted in pain but completely silent as Phoenix and Methos worked to remove him from the SUV. With his mate and Ianto holding Owen steady, Methos scanned Owen from head to toe. Blinking at the readings, he scanned again. When he scanned a third time, Ianto spoke up.

“Having trouble?”

“I’m honestly not sure,” Methos admitted. “According to this, Owen’s alive. I’ll know more when I can get him to the med bay and the full-body scanner.”

Methos and Ianto maneuvered Owen so that they could get him into the Hub, while Phoenix returned for the containment vessel. They managed to get Owen down to the autopsy bay without too much fuss; Tosh was noticeably concerned, evidenced by the way she worried her lower lip and wrung her hands, while Gwen simply stood by, still desperately trying to fill in the obvious gaps that she had not been told.

Phoenix passed the containment vessel off to Ianto and took his place by Methos, helping to get Owen laid out on the examination table. Once Owen was stretched out, Methos passed over him with the full-body scanner, duplicating the previous results.

“Jack, what the hell did they pick up?” he called out into the main Hub.

Jack carefully set the containment vessel on one of the workbenches and removed the lid. As he gingerly removed the artifact, he instantly recognized the symbols on it.

“It’s a Chula medical device,” he responded. “It must have activated when Anna and Owen approached it. This thing is full of nanogenes, subatomic robots designed to repair any injury. They must have detected Owen’s undead state and revived him. Be thankful these have apparently seen humans before; otherwise, things could have gotten hairy.”

“They brought him back to life?” Gwen asked in disbelief.

“Life is simply nature’s way of keeping meat fresh,” Jack replied, parroting what the Doctor had said, all those years ago. “Nothing to a nanogene. I’ve seen them rewrite human DNA. Bringing Owen back to life is a piece of cake for them.”

“I feel like I’m on fire,” Owen ground out, speaking for the first time since being revived.

“I’m not surprised,” Methos said, moving back over to his patient. “Your circulatory and nervous systems are reestablishing themselves. Instead of just a foot or a hand, essentially, your entire body is asleep. You’ll have one hell of a case of pins and needles for a bit before everything gets back to normal. It should wear off in not too long. I’d give you a sedative to sleep it off, but there’s no telling what effect it would have with your system on high alert, right now.”

Owen grumbled something unintelligible, though most likely highly offensive, and took several slow deliberate breaths through his nose.

“Yell if you need anything,” Phoenix told him, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder before moving away and following Methos up into the main Hub.

“Is Owen going to be okay?” Tosh asked tentatively.

“He’ll be fine,” Phoenix replied, smiling knowingly at the other woman. “Owen is once again a fully functioning human being, with all that entails.”

“Though we probably need to keep an eye on him for a bit to make sure he doesn’t gorge himself too badly on food, booze, and or sex,” Methos added with a wry grin.

“I’ll start him off on half-caff, shall I?” Ianto suggested.

“Probably wise,” Methos agreed. “Don’t want to shock his system with too much caffeine, straight away.”

Phoenix was doing her best to hold in her laughter as she watched the series of expressions run across Gwen’s face. The Welshwoman was becoming increasingly frustrated with her obvious lack of information and the way she was being blatantly ignored. She was wondering how long it would take before she snapped when Jack spoke up.

“Okay, now that we have a minute, Gwen Cooper, Ben Adams and Anna Hunter. They’re going to be staying with us for a while.”

“Oh really?” Gwen asked, her copper’s intuition sending off so many alarms about this new couple. “And just how did you wind up here?”

“Had a spot of trouble earlier in the week,” Methos replied. “We needed a place to lay low, and Jack offered to give us a hand. Once it was cleared up, we offered to stick around.”

Methos knew that wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her, and he wondered just how much trouble she would give him and his mate. One of the flats he had looked at was suitable and easily alterable to meet their needs. He needed to call the leasing agent fast so they could get their things out of the Hub where prying eyes could stumble upon them.

Gwen was about to speak again when Jack stopped her, “Enough, Gwen. They’re friends. That’s all you need to know.”

It was all Methos could do to keep from groaning aloud. If she hadn’t been suspicious of them before, those six words were bound to set her off. A look traded with Phoenix said she thought the same.

“Come on,” he said, turning to Phoenix. “One of the flats I looked at will work nicely, so I need to call the leasing agent back, if you’ll arrange to have our things shipped in.”

“For the record, if any of my vinyl collection has been damaged by the time it gets here, you will be shot,” Phoenix shot back.

Gwen watched with narrowed eyes as the pair moved off to a desk near the edge of the Hub. She turned her gaze back to Jack, who met her gaze evenly, raising an eyebrow as if daring her to defy him. Knowing she was, at the moment, beaten, she went to her desk in a huff.

“I’ll go sit with Owen,” Tosh said quietly, scurrying towards the autopsy bay and away from the palpable tension in the main Hub.

Trading a look with Jack, Ianto shrugged and made his way up to the tourist office to wait for the lunch delivery.

By the time lunch arrived, the fire in Owen’s veins had subsided to a tingling ache, and he insisted that Tosh help him up to the boardroom where the food had been laid out. He was delighted to find out that he was absolutely starving.

He stumbled on the next to last step leading up to the boardroom, falling ungracefully to his knees before Tosh could catch him. He turned and sat on the step, his breathing labored, and he couldn’t help the smile that came to his face as he felt, for the first time in weeks, useful oxygen passing his lips into his lungs and exchanged for carbon dioxide. Tosh let him sit for a minute before asking if he was ready to continue. With a nod, she held out a hand and helped him to his feet.

“Don’t suppose you still want to go get that drink,” he said, the words escaping before he could register their meaning. He tried not to show his alarm as he waited for her response.

“I’d like that,” she replied quietly, hoping she wasn’t blushing as badly as she felt she was, “but it may be a good idea to give your system a chance to level out, first.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” he agreed.

It was all Owen could do to not openly drool at the sight of the same Thai take away he had eaten for the last several years. In fact, to his food-starved eyes, Ianto had ordered a veritable feast. Pad Thai, rice noodles, vegetable rolls, chicken satay; all exceedingly ordinary dishes, but it was the first food he had eaten in weeks.

“I have one hell of a shopping trip to do,” he noted, around a mouth full of food.

“I can give you a hand if you’d like,” Tosh offered.

Phoenix hid a smile behind her drink. So the shy tech did have a thing for the acerbic doctor. She wasn’t sure where a romance might wind up, but for now, she was happy for Tosh. Her smile faded when she glanced over at Gwen, poking at her pepper steak with a pair of chopsticks. The other woman hadn’t said anything more to her or Methos, but Phoenix could see the distrust behind her eyes. She didn’t think she would say anything around Jack, so Phoenix would need to be on her guard if she found herself alone with Gwen.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a sharp clang as steel met steel, the strike blocked and swiftly parried. Methos pulled his Ivanhoe back and prepared for the next attack. Ianto was a fast learner, and he was quickly approaching Methos’ skill level. He had a grace that belied his little experience, and after only two months of lessons, the old immortal was finding it more and more difficult to find holes in his defenses, as well as defend his own. Even Phoenix’s dirty tricks failed to land a blow. Suffice it to say, Methos was impressed.

After another bout back and forth, they paused, each reaching for the water bottle they had brought. Each was breathing heavily and coated in a layer of perspiration. As they caught their breath, Ianto brought up something that had been concerning him.

“You’ve been drilling me twice as hard for the last week. What has you so worked up?”

Methos should have known that nothing would slip past the intuitive Welshman. Taking another drink, he sighed.

“There’s been another Immortal hanging around the Plass for the last week. I’m not sure who it is, and I’m not keen on finding out. But whoever it is knows that the three of us are around. I want to make sure you’re prepared to defend yourself when necessary. So far, you’re doing a pretty good job of it.”

Ianto blushed slightly at the praise. He still had no idea how old the Immortal was, but he knew he had been around long enough for that to be high praise.

“Your offense still has a little room for improvement, but you’ve done very well,” Methos continued. “Just remember the three rules of combat, and you should live to see the next century, if not many more after that.”

Ianto remembered, all right. In the beginning of his training, Methos had instilled in him what he saw as the three rules of Immortal challenges: 1) Make sure there aren’t any Mortals to witness the fight; 2) Never fight on Holy Ground—definitely take no heads on Holy Ground; and 3) There are no rules. Easy enough to remember, but Ianto figured putting them into practice could get tricky.

“That’s enough for today,” Methos decided, taking a look at his watch. “I need to try to drag Anna out of here at a reasonable hour. A friend of ours is stopping by for a day or so on his way back to Paris. Oh, remind me in the morning, I need to set you up with our banker.”

“I need another banker?” Ianto asked.

“This one is one of us. He manages a private bank in Zurich with a very select clientele, if you get my drift. Many of us keep a secure account with him that we can carry with us into any identity. After several hundred years, you can build up quite a bank balance. Don’t want to draw any undue attention.”

Ianto conceded the wisdom of that, and they headed up the corridor to the main Hub. Once there, they spied what had become a familiar pattern: Tosh was helping Phoenix navigate the Mainframe; Owen was typing up a report on a recent autopsy, trading occasional “secret” smiles with Tosh; and Gwen was at her desk, trying not to be obvious about staring at Phoenix. In the two months they’d been there, her suspicion had hardly lessened, despite Phoenix’s attempts at connecting with the Welshwoman; if anything, she was more so. Methos knew it probably seemed unfair to keep Gwen in the dark about his and Phoenix’s natures when the rest of Torchwood Three knew, but he was still on the fence about whether or not to trust her. Living as long as he had, he knew it was better to err on the side of caution than to blithely trust the undeserving.

Methos checked his computer for any notices, and then logged off the system. He gave Phoenix a five minute warning before heading up to Jack’s office to let him know they were leaving. The sight that met him made him blink in mild surprise: in the less than two minutes the two had been alone, Jack had backed Ianto up against his desk and was proceeding to kiss the younger man senseless. Methos cleared his throat, trying not to show his amusement as Ianto jumped back.

“Don’t mind me,” he smirked, “just came up to say Anna and I were leaving. Try not to overdo it.”

He gave them a wink before turning on his heel and retracing his steps back down to the work area. By this time, Phoenix had collected her things and they bid the others goodnight before heading out the tourist shop.

The flat they had been living in was within walking distance from Cardiff Bay, a convenience greatly appreciated since Phoenix did everything she could to avoid driving; her issues with the right-hand drive had almost caused more wrecks than Methos could count, before he put a stop to it. Thankfully, any necessary shopping could be had in the immediate area. It was firmly established that any driving was to be done by Methos.

As they rode up the elevator to the fourth floor flat, they both felt the buzz of another Immortal. Methos tensed, while Phoenix groaned in aggravation.

“I hope that’s Duncan, because I really don’t feel like facing anyone else,” she groused.

They approached their door cautiously, unsure of what waited. Methos had a hand inside his greatcoat on the handle of his Ivanhoe as Phoenix quietly unlocked the door and opened it to peer inside. With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, she pushed the door the rest of the way open. Duncan MacLeod was slumped back in one of the overstuffed armchairs in the living area, nursing what Methos guessed was some of his twenty-year-old scotch.

“By all means, make yourself at home,” he sniped, closing the door behind them and taking off his coat.

“Well, I figure it evens out with all the times I’ve come home to find you’ve swiped a beer from my fridge,” the Highlander retorted.

“He has a point,” Phoenix conceded. “Now go take a shower. You’re a bit ripe after your lesson with Ianto.”

Methos rolled his eyes and shook his head, but Duncan watched in amusement as the old Immortal did as she requested.

“How did you manage to get him so well trained?” Duncan asked once Methos had retreated to the bedroom.

“Easy, I withhold sex when he acts up,” she smirked, only partly joking.

“Yeah, I don’t think that will work for me.”

“He lived in ancient Rome; you’d be surprised what he’s up for. I’ve learned quite a few tricks from him,” she countered, grinning as Duncan squirmed in his seat.

“Okay, subject change,” he announced, standing and walking over to the window. “What’s this I hear about Methos taking on a student? I didn’t think he would be willing to do that.”

“We just kinda stumbled upon the kid,” Phoenix explained. “Technically, Ianto is still pre-Immortal, but we’ve started his training early. He has what you might call a high-risk job. It’s not a matter of _if_ he becomes Immortal, but _when_.”

Duncan nodded, knowingly. He then looked at her and raised an eyebrow, “You’ve changed your accent.”

“Well, even you’ve had to do that over the years,” she replied, slipping into a Scottish brogue. She then reverted to the southern drawl he was familiar with: “If Anna Hunter is from Bristol, England, then I can hardly go around sounding like I’m from Atlanta, Georgia.”

“Good point. How are you enjoying Cardiff?”

“Never thought I’d find a place that rained more than Cascade,” she replied dryly. “Other than feeling like I’m starting to mildew, I rather enjoy it. Methos and I happened to have an old friend who lives here, and we’re working with him for now.”

“Methos working?” Duncan asked in disbelief.

“Well, I had to come up with something to keep him from being bored. You can only spend so many days in bed before even that gets old.”

“And we’re somehow right back where we started,” Duncan groaned. “Is it possible to carry on a conversation and have it _not_ revert to Methos and your sex life?”

“I’m sure it’s possible,” she said with a grin.

“I’m not sure who’s worse, you or him,” he said, shaking his head.

“Oh, he’s had five thousand years to perfect his snark. I’m still in training, by comparison. Come on, I’ll give you the dime tour.”

Methos and Phoenix had renovated the flat they had purchased, converting one of the bedrooms into a mini dojo of sorts, with a weapons vault built into one wall. In the main room, several walls had been removed, allowing a free flow through the lounge, kitchen, and dining area. Plaster had been removed from the exterior wall to reveal brick, and the hardwood floors had been polished to protect the natural aged patina. The furnishings were an eclectic mix of items both had collected over the years, as well as some new purchases. The state-of-the-art entertainment system, for instance, containing a large flat-screen television, multi-cd player, turntable, and surround sound. She was just explaining the consequences of any of Methos’ Rolling Stones albums intermingling with her Mingus when the old Immortal returned, hair still damp and dressed in fresh clothes and bare feet.

“Much better,” she grinned, giving him a quick peck as he came to wrap his arm around her shoulders. ‘Though you may want to put some shoes on before we leave.”

“Leave?” he questioned.

“Or Duncan and I can go out to dinner, and we can bring you something back, your choice. We haven’t had a chance to go shopping in over a week. We have nothing in, and I seriously doubt the edibility of anything we do have.”

“I’ll just go grab some shoes,” Methos answered, going back to the bedroom for his boots.

“I also sometimes threaten with questionable food,” Phoenix told Duncan, going back to their earlier conversation when she saw the amusement in his eyes.

* * *

 Jack moved as quietly through the sewer as he could, torch in one hand, weevil spray in the other, Webley secured in its holster on his hip. Ianto followed suit, just behind and to his right. They had been enjoying a quiet evening, but when the weevil sighting was reported, they jumped. More than once had Owen referred to weevil hunting as their form of foreplay. Jack would always grin unabashedly at this.

They had tracked the weevil from the point of the sighting to the sewer grating. Once in the sewers, they followed the echoing sounds of the agitated creature. Several times, Jack thought he heard it behind them, but then it would be back in front, and he would dismiss it as his ears playing tricks on him.

They continued on, moving together with a practiced ease perfected through numerous such excursions, when a low growl echoed through the sewer, and Jack knew that this time, it was no trick of acoustics. The weevil was indeed behind them.

He turned to warn Ianto, just in time to see the creature leap out of the shadows and set upon the Welshman. In the two seconds it took Jack to draw his gun, the front of Ianto’s shirt had been turned to bloody shreds. Ianto screamed in agony as the sharp claws dug deep into his flesh. Jack dispatched the weevil with a well-aimed head shot and pulled the now-limp body from Ianto.

“Ianto, talk to me!” he ordered, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

He shined his torch over Ianto’s chest to assess the damage. Blood ran freely as most of the skin from his shoulders to his stomach had been peeled away, and Jack could see the white of several bones showing through. He knew things would not end well for the younger man. He pulled off his coat and pressed it to Ianto’s torso in a futile attempt to stop some of the bleeding.

“Stay with me, Ianto,” Jack said, lifting the other man into his arms as gently as he could to avoid causing him any more pain.

Each step felt like a mile as Jack made his way back to the SUV. He had no idea how he was going to get Ianto back up to the surface, so he maneuvered Ianto to allow him to dial his mobile. After a quick debate, he dialed Methos, knowing the old Immortal was more likely to get there quicker than Owen could.

“ _This had better be good, Harkness_ ,” Methos growled upon answering.

“Ianto’s been mauled by a weevil,” Jack gave as explanation.

He could hear Methos utter a faint curse, “ _How bad?_ ”

“Bad. We’re in the sewers over in Grangetown, near Saint Paul’s. You can get here faster than Owen. Ben, hurry.”

He disconnected the call, and returned his attention to the man in his arms. Ianto had started shivering, and the slight wheeze in his breath made Jack think that one of his lungs had been nicked. The light was poor, but Jack suspected that Ianto had gone deathly pale.

“We’ll have you fixed up in no time,” he tried to be reassuring, but he was unable to mask the quiver in his voice, so he tried to lighten the mood, “but until you’re back on your feet, you shall have me at your beck and call. Just name your pleasure: food, drink… sex.”

“Jack, it’s okay,” Ianto rasped. “If I die, I’ll come back. I’ll always come back. Then you’ll never be alone.”

Ianto’s words made Jack’s blood run cold. As much as there was a very large selfish part of him that wanted to keep Ianto with him always, the rational part of his brain would do anything to keep Ianto from that kind of existence. There was also the small voice that reminded him that Ianto’s forever would only last until he came across a better swordsman.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Jack replied, his voice catching.


	4. Chapter 4

Methos put his phone away, and Phoenix instantly recognized the grim expression.

“Ianto?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“If he isn’t now, he will be soon,” Methos replied.

“How?”

“Weevil,” he said, and she clenched her eyes shut, her imagination painting a vividly gruesome picture. “He and Jack are just a couple miles away, and I can get there faster than Owen.”

As he spoke, he stood from the café table they were seated at. Duncan had excused himself to the restroom moments before Jack had called, something the two Torchwood agents were thankful for, as it allowed them a bit more freedom of speech.

“Go back to the flat with Mac,” Methos directed. “Once we get Ianto back to the Hub, I’m going to stick around and make sure everything goes correctly. Owen will be around if I need any help, and I’m sure I can get Tosh to run interference with Jack if need be, but I don’t want any more people around than necessary.”

“Call me when it’s done,” she told him, giving him a gentle kiss. “If you need me, I’m only minutes away.”

He nodded, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and hurried for the car park. Saint Paul’s Church in Grangetown was only a few miles from where the three Immortals had been dining, and he had spotted the large, black SUV in less than five minutes. After another brief search revealed the uncovered manhole, Methos grabbed the med kit from the back of the SUV and quickly descended into the sewer.

He found Jack sitting by the base of the ladder, cradling Ianto in his lap. The amount of blood that covered the two men would have made other men lose their dinner, but blood was something the former Horseman was well used to. He didn’t bother opening the med kit; he could see by the massive quantity of lost blood, the exposed ribs, and the rattle in his breath that Ianto was not long for the land of the living. He knelt next to Jack and gently put his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Jack, there’s nothing to be done,” he said softly. “The humane thing to do would be to put him out of his misery. We’ll take him back to the Hub, get the two of you cleaned up, and when he wakes up, you can get started planning forever. Right now, he’s either in excruciating pain, or is so delirious from the blood loss that he isn’t aware of anything. We need to end his suffering so he can begin to heal.”

Knowing Methos was right, Jack nodded, not happy about the idea, but not wanting to see Ianto suffer. Methos reached into his boot and pulled out the knife he kept tucked away there, pausing a second before driving the blade into Ianto’s heart. Ianto’s eyes widened and his body stiffened briefly before falling limp. Methos removed the blade and turned away to wipe it clean, giving Jack a modicum of privacy as he pressed a kiss to Ianto’s forehead, several tears finding their way past his lashes.

Using all due reverence, Methos helped Jack get Ianto back to the surface and into the SUV. Methos drove back to the Hub, Jack choosing to stay in the back of the vehicle with Ianto. After an initial battle, the old Immortal convinced Jack to bring Ianto to the autopsy bay, his argument being he could clean the young man’s body off easier there. It wasn’t until they had reached the main Hub that Methos thought of Owen and Tosh. They didn’t know about Ianto’s Immortal status.

_Well, this ought to be interesting_ , he thought.

Sure enough, both jumped when they saw Jack enter, carrying Ianto’s lifeless body. Thankfully, Gwen had already left for the evening.

“What the hell happened?” Owen all but screamed, reaching to feel for a pulse as he went into doctor-mode.

“He was attacked by a weevil,” Methos explained, pulling Owen away. “There’s nothing more we can do, right now. He’s already dead. All we can do is get him cleaned up and wait.”

“Wait for what?” Tosh asked, somehow finding her voice through the shock; her grief at seeing Ianto’s body was immense, so she could only imagine what Jack was feeling.

“Ianto’s Immortal, like me and Anna,” Methos revealed. “Up until now, he’s been mortal, just like you. Now that he’s died, his body will repair itself, and he’ll revive.”

He turned back to Jack and placed his hand on the other man’s shoulder, “Jack, let me take him. Owen and I will take care of him. You need to get cleaned up, yourself.” Jack started to protest, but Methos cut him off, “Do you want him to wake up and find you covered in his blood? Then go shower and change.”

Reluctantly, Jack handed Ianto over to Methos, and the old Immortal proceeded to take the young man down to the autopsy bay. As he passed Tosh he stopped to briefly whisper an order to look after Jack.

Once Ianto was stretched out on the examination table, Methos and Owen proceeded to cut away his clothes. Everything had either been torn or stained beyond repair, and they didn’t think Ianto would mind being rid of any reminders of such a brutal attack.

“How long have you known about Ianto?” Owen asked as they began to wash away the blood that had begun to dry and cake.

“Since we met,” Methos replied truthfully. “The sense that Anna and I have for other Immortals can also detect people that have yet to become so. We sensed the potential in Ianto the moment we met him.”

“Did Jack know?”

“Yeah, we told him.”

“But not me,” Owen retorted, not without a little bite. “Well, why would you? I’m just his bloody doctor.”

“We didn’t say anything, on the off chance that Ianto would be able to live a normal, mortal life,” Methos explained. “And also, yes, we told Jack and Ianto, but beyond that, it’s not our secret to tell. No matter how okay they may be with it, it’s bad form to reveal another’s Immortality without their consent.”

Owen grumbled, but he knew that Methos had a point. He was shocked to see that, by the time they had washed all the blood off of Ianto, some of the shallower wounds had begun to close.

“It will still probably be a few hours before he wakes up,” Methos said, noting Owen’s reaction. “The first death is usually the worst. Let’s take him up to Jack’s office, he’ll be more comfortable there when he wakes up, and it’s more private. I can stay with the two of them, you and Tosh head out. I don’t think it would be a good idea to crowd them, right now. I’ll call when Ianto wakes up.”

Owen grumbled about being Ianto’s physician once more before rounding up Tosh and herding her out of the Hub. With no one left but the three immortal men, Methos carefully gathered Ianto’s body in his arms and carried him up to Jack’s office. He laid him out on the couch and draped a blanket lightly over his lower half, leaving the still-healing gashes on his torso exposed.

A glance towards the trap door indicated the Jack was still in his bunker. Methos quietly climbed down to find Jack sitting on his bed, a shirt clutched tightly in his hands. He had apparently washed the grime and blood away, but he had stopped before getting dressed, as he sat there entirely in the buff.

“Jack?”

Jack slowly looked up from the shirt, his eyes red with a lost expression on his face.

“What do I do now?” he asked.

“Well, for the immediate future, I’d put some pants on and go hold your lover until he wakes up. For the more long term, however, I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Methos pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt for Jack to wear, then found something from what was obviously Ianto’s wardrobe. He and Jack ascended back to Jack’s office, and they found that there was more skin than raw flesh covering Ianto’s body. Methos placed the clothes on Jack’s desk and turned the chair around to face the couch. Jack gingerly lifted Ianto’s head and sat on the couch, pulling his lover onto his lap.

The living sat there in silence, waiting as the minutes ticked by and turned into hours. Slowly, Ianto’s flesh knit itself back together. Methos crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair, watching as Jack ran his fingers through Ianto’s hair. The two had a long and occasionally rough road ahead of them, but Methos had no doubt that they would last.

It was going on seven hours of silence when a gasp drew Methos back from the brink of slumber. Ianto pulled away from Jack, almost falling off the couch as he flailed in brief panic.

“It’s okay, Ianto, I’ve got you. You’re safe,” Jack said, tightening his hold on Ianto’s shoulders.

Once Ianto realized that Jack was there, he calmed greatly. He fell back against Jack, clutching the other man’s arms. As the panic wore off, Ianto became aware of a tingling sensation in the back of his head. He pulled away from Jack just enough to look around the office. When his eyes landed on Methos, he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’ll take a while to get used to,” Methos answered the unasked question. “It’s stronger for me since I’m so old. The younger ones won’t feel as harsh.”

Ianto nodded, then turned back and buried his face in Jack’s neck. Methos and Jack shared a glance over Ianto’s head, and Methos took that as his cue to leave. He stood and, after assuring Jack that he would check Ianto over first thing in the morning, left the Hub. As he made his way to the garage, he first called Owen, reporting that Ianto was once again in the land of the living. The other doctor was relieved, and thanked him for the call. He then called Phoenix.

“It’s done.”

* * *

When Methos arrived back at the flat, Phoenix was curled up in the overstuffed armchair. She was running through her fingers a strand of turquoise beads. The beads were well worn from over a century of handling. The reservation her village had been sent to housed tribes from several nations, the Cheyenne among them. A Cheyenne elder had given her the beads as a blessing, and she always pulled them out when she was worried.

“How did it go?” she asked as Methos came and sat on the arm of the chair.

“His injuries were severe, that’s why it took so long,” Methos sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I left him in Jack’s care. And Owen and Tosh know about Ianto, now, as well.”

“Leaving Gwen the only one in the dark. Not sure how I feel about that.”

“Well, whether I like it or not, I at least need to tell her about me. I don’t want her to do anything stupid, like get herself killed trying to save me. Where’s MacLeod?”

“He turned in several hours ago,” she said, looking at the clock on the wall. “He was falling asleep on the couch when I told him to go to bed. I wanted to wait up for you.”

“It’s about time we got you to bed, as well,” he replied, bending to lift her from the chair.

She smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck. To tell the truth, she was beyond tired, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. She knew that now that Ianto was fully Immortal, they would need to step up his training. He could handle his sword well, but there was always room for improvement.

Of course, all thoughts of swordplay-dates were banished the second her head hit the pillow. She was vaguely aware of Methos stripping down and sliding in next to her, and she was out cold as soon as his arms encircled her.

* * *

After a while, Jack convinced Ianto to retreat to the bunker. The Welshman still had not spoken, and Jack was definitely concerned. He sat next to Ianto on the bed and placed his hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“Ianto, talk to me, please,” he begged softly.

Ianto opened his mouth, but he remained silent for several more minutes.

“I thought I’d feel different,” he said finally, “but I feel just the same as I did.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said softly, pressing a kiss to Ianto’s temple.

“What for?” Ianto asked, turning to look at him.

“I’m sorry that you’re going to watch your sister and everyone you love grow old and die. I never wanted you to have to bear this burden.”

“For once in your long life, Jack, will you stop mourning? I could see it in your eyes, before Ben and Anna arrived. You knew you would still be alive when my bones had long turned to dust, and no matter how hard you tried to hide it, you were already mourning my death. After they told us about my Immortality, you were grieving for my loss of a normal life. Jack, stop,” Ianto cut him off when he tried to interrupt. “‘Normal’ went out the window the minute I joined Torchwood.

“Jack, you don’t realize that I’ve been mourning, too. The thought that you would have to go on living long after Owen, Tosh, Gwen, and myself are dead, that you would continue to outlive friends and lovers for untold centuries, always ending up alone, was almost more than I could bear. Now you don’t have to suffer alone.”

Jack warmed as he listened to the Welshman’s plea. Blinking back the sting of tears, he placed his hand against Ianto’s cheek.

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, Ianto,” he said roughly.

“I’m sure there was something,” Ianto grinned, leaning in to place a sound kiss on Jack’s lips.

Both knew there was still much for them to discuss, but talking was the farthest thing from their minds. Instead, they took pleasure in each other’s bodies, secure in the knowledge that, should the world end tomorrow, they would still have each other.


	5. Chapter 5

Ianto awoke to the same tingling pressure in his head that he had felt the night before. Methos’ warning from the day before echoed in his ears, and he hoped that it was the presence of his friends that he felt, and not another Immortal.

Another presence was more immediate, and Ianto smiled as his initial trepidation faded. Jack was pressed close behind him, and they were touching from shoulder to toe. It was rare when Ianto woke before Jack, the immortal man not seeming to sleep much, so he savored the moment. Torchwood would intrude soon enough.

“The others will be in and demanding coffee, soon enough,” Jack muttered, sounding more asleep than awake.

“Let them. It feels too good to move,” Ianto replied, and he could feel Jack smile against the back of his neck. “I think Ben and Anna are already here.”

“Okay, then we really need to get up, unless you feel like having them join us,” Jack replied.

Realizing that Jack probably had a point, Ianto reluctantly pulled away and slipped out of bed. Jack followed, and the two got ready for the day. When they emerged from the bunker, they found Methos sitting on the couch in Jack’s office.

“I was beginning to wonder if you two were ever going to come out,” he remarked. “This is your ten-minute warning, Ianto. As soon as you’ve made coffee, report to the med bay. Owen wants to assure himself that you really are fine. Also, I’m going to tell Gwen about myself, so if you want to tag along, that’s up to you.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a busy morning,” Jack said, looking at Ianto. “Better get going. Owen’s even more testy about his coffee now than before he died.”

Ianto excused himself and went about making the first round of coffees. Gwen took hers with her usual thanks, but Tosh appeared to be restraining herself from jumping into his arm; he reminded himself that the last time she had seen him, he had been dead.

The third coffee went to Phoenix, but he was shocked when she vehemently rejected it.

“Oh heavens, Ianto, please take that away!” she exclaimed.

“It’s the same coffee you take every day,” he pointed out, trying not to be offended.

“I’m sorry, Ianto. I’ve been feeling nauseous since early this morning, and the smell of the coffee is almost more than I can take,” she moaned.

Ianto frowned, recalling that Phoenix had said that her Immortal nature prevented her from ever getting sick, “You might want to have Owen or Ben take a look at you.”

“They have better things to do than to waste time checking me over. Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be scurrying along?”

“Promise me that if you keep feeling ill, you’ll have one of them look at you,” he pressed one last time before turning away.

Phoenix had tried to downplay how bad she was feeling, but truth be told, she just wanted to crawl back into bed and hide. She tried to remember if she had ever been sick when she was mortal, but those twenty years were beginning to blur. She was pretty sure she had never felt like this.

A wave of nausea swept over her, and she made a mad dash for the toilet, unaware that Gwen had been watching her intently. She just managed to make it before losing what little breakfast she had eaten. Resting back on her heels, she was surprised to feel a damp cloth pressed into her hand.

“Here,” Gwen offered, kneeling down next to her.

“Thanks,” Phoenix replied, taking the offering for the olive branch she knew it was.

“I know I’ve been a bit of a bitch to you and Ben. I don’t know why I’m so suspicious of strangers. Maybe I’ve been here too long,” Gwen said the last bit mostly to herself.

“A certain amount of suspicion is healthy,” Phoenix said with a small smile. “I can’t say we did much to alleviate your suspicion. We just sort of barged in and acted as though we’d been here for years.”

Phoenix levered herself off of the tiled floor and walked over to the sink. After rinsing her mouth out, she splashed some cool water on her face.

“How are you feeling?” Gwen asked.

“Honestly, I feel like complete and utter crap, but if I breathe a word of this to Ben, I’ll never hear the end of it. I would say it was the flu, but I’ve never been sick, so I don’t know.”

“It could be some sort of stomach virus, or…” Gwen trailed off.

“Or what?” Phoenix asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I’ve seen how you and Ben are around each other, much like Jack and Ianto. I’m just saying that it’s a possibility that you could be pregnant.”

“Nice thought, Gwen, but I’m not pregnant. That I do know.”

“Are you sure?”

Phoenix smiled kindly at Gwen, “I can’t get pregnant. I’m sterile.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Gwen said.

Phoenix could see the sympathetic look on her face, and she knew she needed to head her off before Gwen got too soppy on her.

“It’s something I’ve known and accepted for years. There’s no need to offer me any pity.”

“Well, you should probably let Owen have a look at you, even still,” the Welshwoman pressed gently.

“I’m beginning to think you’re right,” the Immortal woman conceded.

Gwen opened her mouth to speak, but Jack’s voice calling to her over her comm cut her off.

“ _Gwen, team meeting in the board room in ten minutes. Tell Anna._ ”

“Got it,” she replied. She looked back to Phoenix, “Looks like we’ve been missed.”

“No, Ben has an innate ability to tell where I am at all times,” Phoenix smirked. “He knew the second I left the main Hub.”

“Well, we’d better get going before he decides to come in after us.”

The ice having been broken between the two women, they made their way back up into the main Hub. They parted for their respective desks, and Anna found a steaming cup of peppermint tea sitting by her keyboard. A testing sip revealed that it was sweetened with honey, just the way she liked it. She smiled; leave it to Ianto.

Soon enough, they were all gathered in the board room. Phoenix could see that Ianto was uneasy, and she assumed that he was still uncertain about telling Gwen. She gave him a small smile, letting him know that she would be behind him. Grateful, he nodded back.

“Okay, so there have been some… developments,” Jack started.

“Let’s just cut to the chase, Jack,” Methos cut him off, knowing that the direct approach would be best in this scenario. “I’m Immortal.”

Gwen sat there and blinked, at first, not sure if she had heard him correctly, “I’m sorry, did you say ‘immortal’?”

“I did.”

“What, like Jack?”

“Not quite, no,” Phoenix replied, cutting in. “We revive just like Jack, but we don’t age, and there is a way to kill us permanently.”

“Hold on, did you say ‘we’?” Gwen interrupted, her head spinning.

“She did,” Ianto jumped in. “All three of us are.”

Gwen turned her gaze to Ianto, her glare a mixture of anger and hurt, “And you never thought to mention this?”

“Well, to be fair, he’s only technically been Immortal for about twelve hours,” Methos pointed out. “Up until yesterday, he was just as mortal as you.”

“Maybe we should start from the beginning,” Ianto suggested, seeing Gwen teetering towards overload.

Slowly, so they knew she was following, Methos, Phoenix, and Ianto related all that she had missed in that first week when she had been on her honeymoon. Gwen was beyond floored, but she had seen all sorts of crazy things since joining Torchwood: weevils, cannibals, the fae, Abbadon, blowfish drug rings, a giant space whale. Immortals were simply one more unexplained phenomenon.

“Wait, is that why you said you couldn’t be pregnant, because all Immortals are sterile?” she asked Phoenix.

“Wait, what?” Methos asked, eyebrows reaching for his hairline as he turned to his mate. “Why would you being pregnant even enter conversation?”

Phoenix sighed as she felt all eyes on her, “I’ve been feeling sick all morning, nauseous, lethargic. Gwen followed me to the toilet when I went to be ill. That was when she brought it up.”

“And you didn’t feel like you should mention this to me?” Methos asked almost accusingly. “We’re never sick, but if you’ve been exposed to anything alien, there’s no telling what kind of effect it could have. I’m giving you a full work up-“

“No,” she cut in. “If anyone is going to give me a once-over, it’ll be Owen. He can be objective; you’ll jump at shadows.”

“She has a point,” Jack added. “Owen, run a full body scan and blood work. Let us know if you find anything.”

That acted as a dismissal, and the team dispersed. Gwen hung back and looked at Jack, her lips pursed.

“You took that all pretty well,” he told her. “I figured you’d be pissed as hell.”

“About Ben, Anna, and now Ianto being Immortal? I’ve seen too much in Torchwood to be too skeptical about things like that, anymore. About being the last to know after everyone else has known for two months? Yes, I’m pissed, but getting mad now won’t do any good.”

“Try not to take it too personally. Ben doesn’t trust easily, and there are precious few mortals who know about his Immortality. The only reason Owen and Tosh knew is because they needed to know when we were dealing with the Hunters.”

Gwen sighed with grudging acceptance and returned to her desk. Jack then returned to his office to find Ianto waiting with a cup of coffee.

“I didn’t hear anything, so I assume Gwen’s okay,” said the Welshman.

“About there being three more Immortals in the Hub, yes; about being the last to know, not so much,” Jack replied, taking the coffee from Ianto. He took a sip and his eyes drifted shut as he savored the blissfully strong brew. “I have run out of words in the English language to tell you how amazing your coffee is.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to communicate it,” Ianto said with a sly grin.

Jack returned the grin as he wrapped an arm around Ianto’s waist. This was the man he was so in love with, the one only he got to see, when all of the protective, professional layers were removed. He was about to ask if they had time for a quick round when a loud crash sounded from the autopsy bay.

They hurried to investigate, crowding around the railing above the bay with Tosh and Gwen. They saw Owen and Methos kneeling over a collapsed Phoenix on the tiled floor.

“What happened?” Jack barked.

“She fainted, that’s all,” Owen replied. “She’ll have a knot on her head that will likely smart for a while, but that’s the least of her worries. Remember what she said about Immortals being sterile?” he finished, tossing his head towards the scanner display.

There, as plain as day for them to all see, was the clear image of a fetus nestled in her womb.

Shocked gasps and exclamations came from Gwen, Tosh, and Ianto, but Jack’s heart sank; he knew fully well what a double-edged blade parenthood was for the undying.

“Ben, take her up to the couch in my office,” he said. “She’ll be more comfortable there, and I know she won’t want to be crowded.”

“How is this possible?” Gwen asked, once Methos had carried Phoenix to Jack’s office. “If sterility is a fact of their kind, what could negate that?”

“The nanogenes,” Tosh said, realization dawning as suddenly everything fell into place. “Remember the Chula medical device she and Owen brought in? They revived Owen, and she had thought they didn’t affect her, but what if they did? What if they repaired whatever wasn’t wired properly for her to conceive?”

“But that’s only one side, and it takes two to tango, so to speak,” Gwen pointed out.

“Maybe the nanogenes were still active in her system the next time she and Ben had sex,” Owen suggested.

“That might do it,” Jack agreed.

While the medical ramifications were being discussed, Ianto slipped away and went up to Jack’s office. He wasn’t sure what he could do to help, but he thought he had at least offer. He found Methos sitting on the couch with Phoenix’s head in his lap, running his hand through her hair just as Jack had done for Ianto the night before.

“How are you?” he asked cautiously, inwardly sighing when he noticed that the old Immortal’s Ivanhoe was nowhere to be seen. Methos furrowed his brow in confusion, so Ianto clarified, “That child is just as much yours as it is Anna’s. It must be a shock to learn you’re going to be a father for the first time in centuries.”

“I’ve been a father before,” Methos countered. “Just because they weren’t my own flesh and blood didn’t make them any less mine. Sometimes they were step-children, sometimes they were adopted. But each time they were mine, and each time it hurt. Some I had to leave as children, others I stayed with. All I had to bury. I’m not sure what carrying this child might do to her, but I know losing it will kill her.”

“Maybe not this one,” Ianto offered. “There is a chance that whatever makes you Immortal can be passed on. The fact that this child even exists is a miracle.”

“I’m not sure I still believe in miracles,” Methos replied quietly, returning his attention to Phoenix.

Ianto took that as the quiet dismissal it was, and returned to the main Hub. Gwen was back at her desk, and it appeared as though Owen and Tosh were doing more analysis on the Chula device that had sent them down this rabbit hole. From where Jack stood, he could see that they stood closer together than was strictly necessary, and he gave a small smile. The two had been on multiple dates since Owen had been revived, and they appeared to be quite happy.

“I’ve never seen him this rattled,” Ianto said softly, crossing over to Jack and breaking his reverie.

“He has good reason to be,” Jack replied. “I know I freaked out when…”

Jack trailed off with a sigh. Ianto knew that Jack had likely had children before; having lived for over a hundred and fifty years made it statistically likely.

“I have a daughter,” Jack blurted out, giving Ianto no more time to follow his train of thought, “Alice. She’s in her thirties. She has a son named Steven.”

“You’re a granddad?” Iantoasked, unable to suppress the smile at the image that thought provoked.

“I know, I don’t look it, do I?” Jack commented, recognizing Ianto’s teasing tone, and grateful for it. “Anyway, Steven’s been bugging her to get me to come ‘round for dinner, and I was wondering if you might want to join us.”

It was said casually, but Ianto recognized the uncertainty in the request. He placed a reassuring hand on his lover’s arm.

“Is she…” he trailed off, uncertain of how to phrase the question.

“Is she like me?” Jack finished for him. “No, not that I can tell, and I’m not about to test it. It’s caused enough trouble between us. Alice doesn’t like me coming around too often because she doesn’t want Steven to notice I’m not aging. He thinks I’m his uncle.”

“Tell her to set an extra place,” Ianto said with a soft smile.


	6. Chapter 6

When Phoenix’s eyes fluttered open, Methos’ face was the first thing she saw.

“Was it a dream?” she asked, uncertainty written across her face.

“No, it’s real,” he said softly.

Through the shocked glaze, he could see a glimmer of light in her eyes. His heart dropped, because he knew that whether or not she would admit it, a child was something that she had wanted. But he had lived too long to see anything but heartache come of this.

“I’m going to be a mom?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

She didn’t seem to notice his trepidation, and for that he was thankful. No matter his misgivings, he didn’t want his jadedness to taint her heart.

“Once Owen checks you out, I’m taking you home,” he said. “I need to take care of something, but I’ll be back when you’re finished.”

Phoenix knew him well enough not to press, and quite honestly, she was still too dizzy with shock to care that much. With a smile still plastered across her face, she kissed him thoroughly and made her way back down to the autopsy bay.

Knowing she was in good hands, Methos made his way to the back stairs. He needed to think, and he knew just the place to be. Winding his way up, he finally reached a door that opened to the roof of the Millennium Center. He strode out to the middle of the domed roof and gazed out over Cardiff as his mind began to wander.

He knew that Phoenix was happy; a part of her had withered when she had realized that motherhood was out of her reach. Now that she had been given this gift, the light was unmistakable. Methos thought differently.

In his long life, he had known plenty of death, lost innumerable loved ones, but there was something different about the death of a child. That was a loss that cut out a piece of your heart each time you experienced it, again and again, until you thought there was nothing left. And as much as he wanted to hope, he saw no way for anything but death to lie before them. If the child was mortal, it would die in less than a century. However, Methos had no desire to see his child subjected to the Game, the tantalizing reward of never having to bury his child ripped away by an Immortal just that bit better with a sword. Either way Methos could see it, he was damned.

“I take it this isn’t the good news she thinks it is.”

Methos should have suspected that Jack would follow him up there.

“I’m the one man on earth who could possibly understand what’s running through your head, right now,” Jack pressed gently.

“There is no pain so great as the loss of a child,” Methos admitted, “and that’s the only outcome I can see. I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

“Alice has a son who thinks I’m his uncle,” Jack pointed out, reminding Methos that he himself had a mortal child. “It won’t be too much longer before my daughter looks like my mother instead of my sister. And she’s not my first. Trust me, I get it. But you have something I don’t: your child may have the Immortal potential.”

“And then what?” Methos barked out with a hollow laugh. “I teach my child how to fight, and then pray to gods I don’t believe in anymore that each time he goes out to meet a challenge, it won’t be his last? I’m not sure if that’s any better than mortality; a mortal life would be short, but at least it would be free of bloodshed and the grief of seeing everything turn to dust around you.”

Jack knew that this was a touchy subject, and one he would make little headway into. So he decided to go another route.

“If you can’t get it together for yourself, do it for her. Whatever you do, you need to work it out with her. She’s going to need you now more than ever.”

He walked up and placed a hand on Methos’ shoulder, a touch of empathy as well as solidarity.

“The way I see it, the fact that you have these doubts means you’re just as human as the rest of us.”

Methos sighed and placed a hand on top of Jack’s. He knew the captain had a point, that he needed to talk to Phoenix. He just wasn’t sure if he was ready for that conversation. With a nod, he turned and followed Jack back down through the Millennium Center to the Hub.

They found Owen and Tosh conspicuously occupied, each appearing thoroughly engrossed in their work. Gwen and Ianto had gone out on a rift alert just as Jack was following Methos up to the roof. That left Phoenix, gathering her things from her desk when Methos walked up.

“Everything set?” she asked, smiling up at him.

He simply nodded. She was radiating joy, and he didn’t have the heart to dampen her happiness. He would get through this. If all he could do was grin and bear it, he would do it for her.

* * *

Methos yelped as Ianto’s broadsword slid down his blade and bit into his hand. Swearing in several dead languages, he brought the injured hand up to his lips.

“You okay? You seem a bit distracted. More than usual, anyway,” Ianto added.

“I’m fine,” the old immortal snapped, wincing internally as he realized how he sounded. The past month had been trying, at best, and the stress of keeping up a happy façade for Phoenix combined with the unease caused by the mystery lurker still pacing the Plass above them was almost more than he could handle. He flexed his now healed hand and set his sword aside.

“You’re good, enough to match me, anyway,” he said. “I’ve got a friend in Paris who might be willing to come spar with you for a few days. He’s got a lot more finesse than I do. Any man who bothers to learn La Destreza is worth studying under.”

“Spanish Circle fencing,” Ianto commented. “You never learned?”

Methos snorted, “Don’t have the patience for it. It’s like chess, only checkmate means losing your head. Besides, I’m too prone to cheating. Live, grow stronger, fight another day.”

As the familiar mantra passed his lips, it drew Methos’ mind back to years gone by, and a solution to one of his problems presented itself. Joe had retired from the Watchers, but he still had the contacts, and could probably find out who was stalking him. Or he could just go up to the Plass and ask. That was certainly the more expedient answer. However, his sense of self-preservation wasn’t _that_ far gone. He’d call Joe first.

Once he and Ianto had finished for the day and the Welsh Immortal had returned to the archives, Methos retreated to a quiet corner to ring his old friend.

“ _Dawson._ ”

“Hey, Joe.”

“ _Hey, Old Man! How’s it goin’? You and Phoenix enjoyin’ Cardiff?_ ”

“For the most part. Listen, Joe, I need a favor.”

“ _Name it_ ,” the old Watcher replied.

“There’s an Immortal that’s been prowling around Roahl Dahl Plass, near where we’re working, for over a month. Is there any chance you can find out who’s in Cardiff?”

“ _What have I told you about using the Watchers as your personal rolodex?_ ” Joe grumbled.

“Not sure if the Watchers have found out or not, but I’ve taken a student, a Welshman by the name Ianto Jones,” Methos stated. “He’s only been one of us for a month, and I have no intention of seeing the effort I’ve made to train him wasted due to some trigger happy head hunter. I want to see this one live.”

There was a pause as Joe sighed before answering, “ _Give me a couple days, and I’ll see what I can find out. Try not to do anything stupid._ ”

“This is me, we’re talking about, Joe. I have a well-defined sense of self-preservation. It’s Phoenix who’s more likely to pull something.”

“ _Good point._ ”

They exchanged a few more updates before ending the call, Joe promising to call as soon as he had any information. Methos then entered another number.

“ _What do you want?_ ” Duncan groused good naturedly.

“Now what makes you think I want something?” Methos replied, affronted.

“ _You only ever call when you want something,_ ” the Highlander pointed out.

“Fair point. How would you like a new sparring parter for a couple days?”

“ _Your student already getting the best of you?_ ” Duncan asked with a chuckle.

“This kid is good. He learns super quick, absorbes everything we give him like a sponge. It’s incredible. He gives Phoenix and me a run for our money, so I thought I’d throw him something new, if you can spare a few days away from that beloved barge of yours.”

“ _Hey, don’t forget, you were going to give the de Valicourt’s my barge as a wedding present_ ,” Duncan protested.

“And then I came to my senses and got them a toaster. How’s this week work? I want you to work with Ianto while I take care of whoever’s been stalking us for the past month.

“ _Okay, there is apparently a lot you’re not telling me._ ”

“No kidding. Are you coming or should I call Amanda? Actually I might call her anyway.”

“ _No need, Darling, I’ll come with Duncan,_ ” Methos heard Amanda’s voice purr in the background.

“I will never understand how you two put up with each other,” Methos muttered, but though he would never admit it, he was secretly pleased that the on-again/off-again between the two was currently “on.”

“ _You know you love me, Methos,_ ” she replied.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“ _We’re kinda in the middle of something, at the moment,_ ” Amanda continued, unfazed. “ _How’s Friday? I’m sure we’ll be wrapped up by then._ ”

“Fine, but don’t call me when you need someone to bail you out of jail.”

“ _Wouldn’t dream of it._ ”

* * *

“Got a minute?” Phoenix asked, knocking lightly on the door to Jack’s office.

“Sure, what’s up?” he replied, setting aside the file he was going through.

“Have you noticed Ben being... off, lately?” she asked, sitting across the desk from him.

Jack sighed. He had hoped Methos would have already spoken to Phoenix about his concerns, but their conversation had been a month ago, and apparently he hadn’t. So, yes, he knew why the Immortal had been acting strange, but it wasn’t his place to tell.

“You need to talk to him about this,” he said grudgingly.

“So it’s not just me, there really is something up with him.”

“Yes, and as much as I disagree with him, it’s not my place to get in the middle. This is something the two of you need to work through on your own.”

“He’ll talk to you about what’s bothering him, but not me,” she said, affronted and somewhat bitter. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by that. Why would he?”

“Anna, it’s not what you think,” Jack told her. “I don’t know why he hasn’t talked to you. The only reason he talked to me is because I’m probably the only person who could understand.”

“Understand what?” Phoenix huffed, exasperated. “What did that idiot have to say that I wouldn’t understand?”

Jack sighed again. It seemed an intervention was in order, before things grew even farther out of proportion.

“He doesn’t think that you’ll understand the baby not being the blessing you think it is,” he said gently.

“What?” she asked softly, her anger deflating instantly.

“All Ben can see is a gravestone. Even should the child somehow inherit your Immortality, Ben fears losing it to the Game. No matter what happens, the only outcome he can see is death.”

A tear slowly made its way down her face as Phoenix considered Jack’s words. It had never occurred to her that Methos might not be as thrilled at the pregnancy as she was. Her own child was something she had always wanted, but it had been relegated to the shelf in her mind that housed that which would never be. Every now and then, she’d take it down, dust it, admire it’s brightness, then set it back on the shelf for another few decades.

She knew that Methos had raised mortal children in the past, but she had never considered that might negatively affect his view on now raising his own. Each time she had brought up the baby, he had responded with appropriate anticipation, though he would usually put it off by saying they still had plenty of time to think about that, and then change the subject.

“What can I do?” she asked Jack in a small voice, suddenly feeling a fool for not noticing what now seemed so obvious.

“Talk to him,” Jack reiterated. “The two of you need to work through this together.” He paused, considering what he could do for his friends. “The rift predictor is showing that it’s going to be pretty quiet for a few days. Why don’t you two take off for a few days? Clear your heads and clear the air. We can manage if anything comes up.”

“He might get suspicious if I bring it up,” she pointed out.

“Leave it to me,” Jack grinned.

Phoenix stood and headed for the door, turning before she exited the office, “Thanks, Jack.”

Jack stood and walked out onto the catwalk overlooking the main Hub just in time to see Methos emerge from the lower levels where he and Ianto trained. With a frown, he made his way down into the archives where he knew he would find his lover.

He couldn’t help but smile at the sight that met him: Ianto stood in the middle of a sea of file boxes, suit coat removed and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He appeared to be methodically shuffling the files into an order that made more sense than the likely “put it wherever it will fit” system that had been in place before he arrived.

“How long are you going to stand there and stare at me?” the Welshman asked, never taking his eyes off his work.

“Can’t blame me if I like the view,” Jack replied cheekily. “I’d offer to help, but I’m pretty sure I’d be more of a hindrance.”

“I cannot argue with you there. Anna talk to you?”

“Yeah, I’m giving her and Ben a few days off,” Jack said, pushing off from where he was leaning on the door jam and walking up to put his arms around Ianto. “She asked you about Ben?”

“He’s been slipping when we spar,” Ianto replied, turning to face Jack. “He’s been letting me past his defenses more and more. His mind is scattered. What it is that’s got him so preoccupied, I’m not sure, but he’s thoroughly rattled.” He narrowed his eyes at Jack. “You know what it is, don’t you?”

Jack nodded, “Hopefully, a few days away will give them a chance to work through it together.”


	7. Chapter 7

Methos packed in silence, trying to figure out how he was going to get through three days with Phoenix without letting her know what was wrong. Jack had suggested that since the rift was quiet for a few days, the two should take some personal time away from Torchwood. Methos hadn’t been able to come with a good reason not to, so the two were gathering their things for three days in London.

They spent the train ride in silence. Methos was deep in thought, and Phoenix didn’t want to disturb his peace until they were within the confines of their hotel room. Instead of staying in his townhouse, Methos had opted for a suite at the Savoy. It was a splurge, but he hoped it and the show tickets would offer a distraction, and she wouldn’t have the time to confront him.

She had other ideas, however.

As soon as they had checked in and were ensconced in their room, she set upon him.

“Okay, enough is enough. Jack told me why you’ve been acting so weird for the last month. How could you not tell me you weren’t happy about the baby?” she accused.

“Jack,” Methos muttered, closing his eyes and vowing to kill Jack slowly when he got back. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? The two of you ganging up on me, some sort of intervention. Well, I can work through my own problems, thank you.”

“But this isn’t just your problem,” Phoenix persisted.

“Yes, it is. This has always been just my problem.” He softened, stepping over to her to take her hands in his. “I will always support you, as I will the child. But I don’t think I can offer it any more than that.”

“I don’t want a child support check, I want you!” she insisted, pulling her hands away.

“See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you. All it would do is hurt you, and I didn’t want that. You didn’t have to know. You could have gone on in blissful ignorance.”

“Did you really think you could have gotten away with not telling me?” she demanded. “That you could keep pulling away and I wouldn’t notice?”

“I could stand you being mad at me better than I could breaking your heart,” he said softly, the fight draining out of him.

Seeing Methos so deflated abated her own anger. She lightly grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her.

“Did it never occur to you that I’m scared, too?”

His wide-eyed stare was a pretty clear negative.

“Just because I wanted a child doesn’t mean I ever thought it would happen. Now that it has, I have no idea what to do. I’ve never taken care of an infant before. How am I supposed to know what to do? What if I do something wrong and I permanently screw up our child?”

“Never, you’ll be a perfect mother,” Methos insisted.

“Not if I’m on my own. I’m just as scared as you are. I’m just choosing not to focus on it.”

“It’s not that easy for me.”

“Methos, you are not the cold cynic that so many others think you to be,” she said with a small smile. “You were able to love again, after Alexa, when you thought your heart was incapable of such a feat. I know you can do this.”

“I will try, but that is all I can offer,” he sighed after a lengthy pause.

“That is all I ask.”

* * *

Assuring himself that Phoenix was well asleep, Methos slipped from the bed as smoothly as possible. Slipping on the plush dressing gown provided, he grabbed his mobile and eased out of the bedroom. He poured a scotch and sat on the sofa, pulling up the number listings and hitting the call button.

“ _I had hoped you would be thoroughly shagged out by now_ ,” Jack answered, and Methos could hear the grin in his voice.

“I called to ask you a favor, Harkness, but if you’re just going to take the piss-” Methos sighed.

“ _I’m sorry. What do you need?_ ”

“I was wondering if you could drum up some volunteers and convert the spare bedroom into a nursery while we’re away,” he said tentatively.

“ _We’ll be happy to,_ ” Jack replied. “ _We’ll get on it first thing. Anything particular you’d like us to get?_ ”

“I think Anna has talked about some things with Gwen, so ask her about particulars. But I do want a rocking chair.”

“ _Consider it done. Try to enjoy London and not worry too much._ ”

“Easier said than done,” Methos muttered, disconnecting the call.

With a sigh, he tossed his mobile onto the side table and rubbed his hands over his face. He was making an effort, but it felt hollow. He hoped that his heart would catch up with his intentions sooner rather than later.

* * *

“Got everything?” Jack asked, putting the last of the paint supplies in the back of Ianto’s Audi.

“That’s the last of it,” Ianto confirmed. “The others are meeting us there. Tosh said the furniture is being delivered in the morning.”

“So if everything goes according to plan, everything should be set when Ben and Anna get back.”

Just then, Jack’s wrist strap beeped.

“Blowfish just knocked over a chippy in Penarth,” he announced, reading the displayed message.

“Penarth? In broad daylight?” Ianto asked, shocked.

“Yeah, that’s a little unusual,” Jack agreed. “Looks like the painting may have to wait a bit. Let the others know about our detour, and tell Tosh to start scanning CCTV feeds.”

“On it,” Ianto replied, already on his mobile as they traded the compact Audi for the conspicuous Torchwood SUV.

Jack and Ianto arrived at the crime scene just moments before Owen and Gwen; Tosh had returned to the Hub to track the blowfish through the CCTVs. There was nothing much to be seen at the shop. The lone shop keeper who had been present had been shot and was being prepped for transport to the hospital by the paramedics. Thankfully, Tosh quickly announced that she had picked up the trail of the errant alien.

“ _Five blocks south of you, headed towards the bay_ ,” she directed. “ _It looks like it nicked a red Mercedes convertible._ ”

The four got back in the SUV and followed Tosh’s directions until the stolen car was in sight. Ianto could see the red fins on the blowfish’s head waving in the wind as the alien sped along with the top down. He knew that they needed to end this before any civilians got hurt. Remembering the blowfish they had pursued the day Jack had returned, Ianto rolled down the window and leaned out of the vehicle.

“Ianto, what are you doing?” Jack asked, alarmed.

“Getting a better shot,” he replied, aiming and blowing out one of the rear tires.

The convertible swerved, crashing into a car parked on the street. Jack pulled the SUV up behind it and they all got out, guns drawn. The driver’s side door creaked open, the abused metal complaining, and a silk-clad arm flopped out onto the asphalt. The rest of the blowfish followed with staggered movements, and Jack finally got a glimpse of its blown pupils and bloodshot eyes.

“Careful, he’s high as a kite,” Jack quietly directed. He directed his focus back to the alien, “You know there’s no version of this that ends well, so why don’t you go for the one that’s easy for us and less bad for you?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Captain Jack Harkness,” the blowfish sneered, releasing a Derringer from up his sleeve and firing.

Four guns went off simultaneously, effectively putting down the blowfish, but his one shot had been true, hitting Ianto center mass. Gwen carefully moved forward to verify that the blowfish was dead while Owen and Jack jumped to keep Ianto from falling face-first to the ground.

Jack’s heart leapt into his throat as he took in Ianto’s face. The look of shock faded as the light left Ianto’s eyes. Owen sprang into action, but Jack waved him away.

“It’s too late, he’s already gone,” Jack said quietly, fighting to keep his emotions at bay. “You and Gwen secure the body.”

He knew intellectually that Ianto would revive, but it didn’t make the sight of his lifeless form any easier. Was this how Ianto felt every time Jack died? If it was, Jack vowed to not be as cavalier with his immortality in the future. Knowing the cold asphalt wasn’t comfortable, Jack carried Ianto to the SUV. He pulled out his mobile and dialed.

“ _What?_ ” Methos snapped when he finally answered. “ _This had better be good._ ”

“How long does it take you to revive after being shot?” Jack asked.

“ _Ianto’s_ _been shot?_ ” Methos asked, his mind obviously trying to shift gears from whatever he had been focused on. (Jack had his suspicions, but at the moment, he didn’t really care.) “ _Um, if it’s a clean shot from a small caliber round, he should revive within minutes. However, he’s young, and relatively weak, so it may be longer. It’s not like it’s an exact science._ ”

“So in other words, I just sit back and wait,” Jack sighed.

“ _Yep, sorry._ ”

“No, it’s just… you know patience isn’t my strong suit.”

Methos wished him well and hung up, leaving Jack sitting in the back seat of the SUV with Ianto. He was peripherally aware of Owen and Gwen loading up the blowfish into the boot, but he couldn’t bring himself to care much.

Owen slid behind the driver’s seat, and started the vehicle, stopping briefly at the chippy so Gwen could retrieve her car, and then continued on to the Hub. Once again, Owen and Gwen worked to transport the blowfish down to the autopsy bay while Jack gently carried Ianto inside.

“Is he okay?” Tosh asked when he entered the main Hub.

“Not yet,” Jack said tightly, easing Ianto onto the couch off to the side of the Hub. “Nothing to do but wait.”

Done for the moment with the blowfish for the time being, Owen moved to check Ianto. The wound appeared to be almost completely healed, so he figured the Welsh Immortal would soon be returning to them.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, than did Ianto gasp back to life.

“Easy, I’ve got you,” Jack murmured in Ianto’s ear. “I’ve got you.”

“Okay,” Ianto said, panting to refill his oxygen-starved lungs, “mental note: don’t get shot.”

“Yeah, it’s not fun,” Jack agreed, smiling in his relief; until Ianto revived, he had not been fully convinced that he would return. “At least it wasn’t a head shot. Those leave me with a migraine for days.”

Ianto nodded and sat up, just as Gwen hurried into the Hub.

“Ianto?” she called, skidding across the grating.

“Over here, Gwen,” he replied, remaining sitting next to Jack on the couch, physically fine, but still somewhat shaken.

“Oh, sweetheart, thank heavens! You had us worried.”

“None more so than myself, I assure you,” he said. “How long was I… out?” he asked, unable to say the word “dead” in reference to himself.

“Not quite half an hour,” Owen confirmed.

“Ben said that as you get older and stronger, that time should decrease,” Jack added.

Ianto nodded, taking a deep steadying breath as he changed the subject, “So much for our early start on the nursery. Though I think we should still manage to get most, if not all of the painting done, today.”

Jack recognized the deflection for what it was, and decided that that was a subject better dealt with in private.

“You heard the man, let’s get over there and get to work!”


	8. Chapter 8

By the time they had finished the painting, it was nearing half seven. Jack stood in the doorway to what was now the Immortals’ nursery. The room was painted in pastel shades of green, blue, and purple, with medieval scenes scattered on the walls at random. In one corner, a knight beckoned to a princess high in a tower; a king presided over a tournament on another wall; and near the ceiling, a dragon soared among the clouds. The crib, changing table, and chest were all white; the only piece of furniture not matching was an antique rocking chair that looked to be from the mid-1800s. Jack gave a satisfied nod, they had done well.

He eyed Ianto as the younger man quietly washed out the paint brushes; they had remained to finish cleaning the remnants of the day’s work. To an untrained eye, Ianto seemed well enough, if somewhat reticent. But Jack could see all the small tells that told him all was not well within the Welshman’s mind.

“Talk to me,” he gently urged, placing his hand on Ianto’s to still him.

“Every day, you make more sense to me,” Ianto replied quietly after a moment’s pause. “I’ve always wondered why you seem so cavalier about dying. But now I know. It’s because if you don’t, the idea of always coming back might drive you mad.”

Jack pulled Ianto fully into his arms. This was one of the many reasons he regretted Ianto’s Immortality. Watching as everyone you loved withered away was bad enough, but knowing there was no end to it, that each death would only be a temporary reprieve, was enough to almost drive him mad. And that was where his selfishness kicked in. Ianto was his lifeline, his tether to reality, and he would cling to him for eternity.

“I’m sorry,” Jack murmured, resting his chin on Ianto’s shoulder. “You know I never wanted this for you.”

“Not like you had much choice,” Ianto replied. “So we’d better make the best of it.”

Jack pulled back and saw the small smile lifting the corners of Ianto’s mouth.

“Let’s finish up here and go get dinner.” Ianto continued, the smile growing into a smirk. “And afterwards, if you’re really good, I may be really bad.”

Just as Ianto had hoped, that succeeded in lifting the somber mood from Jack’s shoulders, and the older man gave him a leering grin in return.

“Oh really? Well, I’ll just have to be on my best behavior, then.”

* * *

The muffled buzz of a vibrating mobile roused Methos from his light slumber. Awareness returning, he eased out of the bed, checking to ensure he hadn’t disturbed Phoenix.

They had returned home from London that afternoon, and had discovered the work that Torchwood had put into the nursery. That had led to a rather enthusiastic show of appreciation from Phoenix, and they had hardly left their bedroom since.

Shaking the last remnants of sleep off, Methos blinked as the screen on his mobile came into focus. It was Joe calling. Moving quietly, he slipped down the hallway to the kitchen.

“Hey, Joe. What’s up?”

“ _I did some digging, and I found your stalker. Juan Calderón, born in Málaga in 1698. He’s not a typical head hunter. He stalks his targets for weeks, learns their every move before finally stepping up. He’s taken at least a hundred and fifty heads that the Watchers know of._ ”

“Three of us all working in one place was probably too much to resist,” Methos mused.

He glanced back towards the bedroom where his mate slept. An image of this Spaniard taking Phoenix’s head and the life of their unborn child flashed in his mind, and he set his jaw. He would do what was necessary to protect his family.

“Thanks, Joe. His Watcher will probably have reported in by morning.”

“ _Methos, what are you fixing to do?_ ”

“What I have to to protect my child,” he replied in a low voice that left no room for argument.

He hung up before the retired Watcher could question him. He wasn’t ready to deal with the can of worms that would be opened when that piece of information came out.

He eased back to the bedroom. He grabbed his sword, placed a lingering kiss on Phoenix’s temple, and left the flat. One way or another, Calderón would no longer be a problem by dawn.

* * *

Methos skirted the Plass, entering the Hub via the underground parking garage on the far side of the Millennium Center in order to avoid alerting Calderón, even though the chances of meeting at such a late hour were slim. He wanted to see what he could dig up with Torchwood’s resources before facing the other Immortal.

When he entered the Hub, he was surprised to see Ianto awake, nursing an atypical cup of tea. Normally, the only beings active in the Hub after midnight were Myfanwy and occasionally Jack.

“What are you doing up?” the old Immortal asked, setting his Ivanhoe by his desk.

“Can’t sleep,” Ianto said simply. “Something’s had me on edge all day, but hell if I know what.”

Methos sighed, shaking his head, “I think I may have an answer.”

He pulled up the CCTV feed monitoring the Plass. He was only mildly surprised to see Calderón lurking in the shadows of the Millennium Center. Any hope for this to go away on its own just went out the window.

“His name is Juan Calderón. He’s the Spanish ghost that’s been staking out the Plass. What he doesn’t know is that he’s stalked his last target.”

Ianto paused at the hard edge that had crept into his teacher’s voice. He knew only snipits of Methos’ past, but knew enough to know that he was not a man you wanted to cross. However, Ianto didn’t need to know even that much to know that Calderón was about to meet a bitter fate at the hands of the ancient Immortal.

“You’re going to challenge him,” Ianto stated.

“If I lose, I want you to take that his head while he’s down. I will not leave that bastard to walk away and threaten my family.”

“Is that a possibility?” Ianto asked uneasily.

“It’s always a possibility,” Methos replied seriously.

“What about, ‘live, grow stronger, fight another day?’”

“‘Another day’ has arrived, and don’t doubt that I will fight like hell.”

Ianto nodded, and retrieved his sword from Jack’s office. Both now armed, they took the invisible lift up to the Plass.

Standing on the paving stone by the obelisk, they scanned the shadows. Ianto spotted him and alerted Methos. Trading a look with his student, Methos stepped off of the stone.

“Calderón! Let’s get this over with. Or are you going to lurk in the shadows for another two months?”

“You’ve waited this long, why rush things?” called back an accented voice.

“I’m not crazy about feeling like I’m living in a terrarium,” Methos shot back, pulling his sword out of his overcoat as Calderón stepped out into the moonlight.

“It’s your funeral,” Calderón shrugged, unsheathing his sword.

“It’ll be yours first.”

Ianto remained on the paving stone as the two Immortals circled each other, finally reaching the penultimate moment and sizing each other’s abilities. After what seemed like no time and forever, Calderón made the first swing.

Ianto watched in fascination as the two Immortals parried blows. He saw that Methos was holding back, but as he continued to watch, he could see that so was Calderón. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, it would have prompted him to make some sort of remark alluding to _The Princess Bride_.

They continued toying with each other for some minutes, until Calderón apparently had enough. Ianto could see a switch flip, and Calderón‘s advances became more aggressive. Methos accommodated for the rise in intensity, and the bout continued, both players relatively evenly matched as they circled the Plass.

“You’re determined to make this as difficult on yourself as possible, aren’t you?” growled Calderón, his patience beginning to wear thin.

“It’s your fault for picking such a stubborn target,” Methos jabbed.

_Is antagonizing him really necessary?_ Ianto thought, watching as Calderón’s nostrils flared in anger. The bout began in honest, and Ianto began to feel real concern for his teacher. Calderón was highly skilled, and he found his way around Methos’ defense, slicing his blade across the older Immortal’s hip.

“ _Ling chi_ is a perfectly good way for you to die,” Calderón smirked. “I just thought you might like something swifter.”

Methos gritted his teeth and drew a ragged breath, pushing the pain to the back of his mind as his Quickening was already knitting the flesh back together. His eyes ghosted over towards the obelisk, where he could just make out Ianto in the edge of his vision. The Welshman hadn’t moved since the fight had begun, but even in peripheral vision, his worry was evident. Methos sent him a slight nod and turned back to Calderón.

“You should have researched me better, Calderón,” Methos ground out. “I was old before your teacher’s teacher had taken his first head. I haven’t lived as long as I have by rolling over to every arrogant youngling that comes across my path. I’ve been building a life here, and I have no intention of giving it up. One of us will be leaving in a body bag, and it will not be me.”

The Spaniard’s attack lost a measure of its elegance as he became more frenzied. Methos stumbled at first, struggling to defend the erratic blows, but he found his footing and began to force his opponent back. He placed Calderón on the defensive, and the younger Immortal found himself struggling to keep up. He tripped on the steps leading up to the Millennium Center, and Methos took the opening. With one strong stroke, he severed Calderón’s neck.

Ianto watched in wonder as the Quickening took over, sparking off the obelisk. Lightning arced from Calderón’s fallen body to Methos. Every muscle in Methos’ body seized as the head hunter’s Quickening overpowered him. Three hundred years’ worth of taking heads had built up a substantial Quickening, and a younger Immortal would have been incapacitated.

He fell to his knees, when it was all over. Ianto rushed over to catch him, but pulled up short, not sure how the old Immortal would react to his attention. Instead, he moved to retrieve Calderón’s sword and waited for Methos to recover.

“I forgot how much I hated head hunters,” Methos quipped, once he had recovered.

“Anna’s going to kill you when she finds out you came here without telling her,” Ianto replied, holding out a hand to help Methos up.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” He paused, looking around the Plass. “Let’s go. Watchers will be here any minute to deal with the body.”

They stepped back onto the paving stone, and it lowered them back down into the Hub. Jack stood at the base, his arms crossed over his chest with a raised eyebrow. He was about to speak when Ianto barely shook his head.

“Get cleaned up,” he said, instead. “Then go home.”

Methos didn’t feel up to arguing, so he turned and headed down to the locker room. As soon as he was gone, Jack turned to Ianto.

“What happened?”

“I was awake when Ben arrived,” Ianto replied. “He told me a week ago that there had been another Immortal staking out the Plass, Juan Calderón. Ben used the CCTV to locate him, and then drew him out into the Plassto challenge him. It got close, but Ben beat him.”

“And neither of you thought to fill me in?” Jack asked, his irritation coming through.

“This wasn’t Torchwood business, Jack.” Ianto paused, “Intellectually, I knew that I could possibly be killed, but nothing Ben or Anna said could make that more real than watching that fight. I might be Immortal, but I’m not invincible.”

Jack sighed, pulling his lover to him. Jack had known it was only a matter of time before Ianto’s Immortality ceased to be academic, and the experience had quite clearly shaken him. There would be plenty of time to return to the subject later.


	9. Chapter 9

Methos let himself back into the flat just as the horizon was starting to lighten. His hope to slip back in bed died when he saw Phoenix curled up in her favorite armchair.

“I woke up and you were gone,” she said softly. “Then I got a call from Joe, wanting to make sure you weren’t going to go after Calderón on your own.” She looked hard at him. “What haven’t you been telling me?”

“Since before Ianto died, there’s been an Immortal staking out the Plass,” he admitted. “The three of us all together in one place had to be hard to pass up, even if he couldn’t tell exactly where we were. I asked Joe to find out who it was, and he told me it was a Spanish head hunter who specializes in stalking his targets for months before making a move.”

“You went after him last night.”

It wasn’t a question. Methos know Ianto’s prediction would prove accurate when he saw the defiance blaze in her eyes.

“I didn’t want to risk him challenging you, and you losing,” he answered honestly. “You know what this baby means to me. I will do everything in my power to protect it.”

“Even risk your own head?” she asked. “Did it ever occur to you what you losing would do to me? I can’t do this on my own, Methos.”

“You’d have Jack and Ianto to help. You’d have our child to hold. But if I lost you, I don’t know if even Duncan could pull me back from the place that would send me.”

Phoenix softened her glare. She knew Methos feared falling back into his ways as a Horseman, but it was not a concern to her. No matter what deeds he had done in the past, or how cynical he might seem, he was a good man at heart. She did not think a relapse would be so easy.

She stood and walked over to him, placing her hands on either side of his heart.

“Come to bed. Duncan and Amanda won’t arrive until after noon, and I can tell you’ve been up all night.”

Methos followed her willingly to the bedroom, not wanting to argue over something was not likely to be resolved any time soon. She was stubbornly independent, and he was fiercely protective to a fault. Neither was likely to change, and arguing about it while they were tired would only make matters worse.

When he finally woke, he was alone in bed and there were voices drifting through from the living room. As the haze of sleep rolled away, he recognized the Highlander’s deep brogue and Amanda’s lilting laugh. He groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over his head to try to shut the world out for a bit longer. That hope died when a pounding rattled his peace.

“I hope you’re not planning on sleeping all day,” Amanda called through the door.

“I was until you got here,” he replied, throwing back the covers and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He went and opened the bedroom door and glared at Amanda.

“You look like hell,” she stated plainly.

“Yes, well, we can’t all look like a Dior model after taking a head at three a.m.,” he sniped back.

“Well, you can just go back to bed if you’re gonna be like that.”

“Shut up. I’ll be out in a minute.”

He closed the door in her face and turned back to the wardrobe, pulling out a jumper and a pair of faded jeans. Once changed, he padded barefoot out to meet the others.

“Ah, Rip Van Winkle, I was wondering if you were ever going to join us,” Duncan quipped good-naturedly.

“Ha ha,” Methos replied dryly.

“Play nice, boys,” Phoenix piped up, bringing a cup of coffee with her from the kitchen. “Here you go,” she said, handing it to him.

“You didn’t have to,” he said softly, accepting the cup; he knew she had been unable to stand the smell of coffee, prompting Ianto to keep the kitchenette in the Hub closed off, so the aroma didn’t spread. The Welshman also kept a stock of peppermint tea laced with ginger just for her.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his free hand ghosting down towards her still slender waist.

“Great, actually. No nausea all morning, hence the coffee,” she added with a smile.

“Something you care to share with the rest of the class?” Amanda prodded.

Phoenix smiled up at Methos, and he knew there was no pointing in putting off the inevitable.

“Mac, how do you feel about being an uncle?”

“You’re adopting?” the Highlander asked with raised eyebrows.

“Now, Duncan, I think it’s sweet,” Amanda countered. “Uncharacteristically sentimental and borderline crazy, but sweet, nonetheless.”

“Not exactly adopting,” Methos hedged, moving behind Phoenix and wrapping his arms around her middle.

“I’m pregnant,” Phoenix blurted out.

“Excuse me?” Amanda asked.

“Through a sequence of events that I frankly still don’t understand, we have become the first Immortals in history to conceive a child,” Methos stated.

Amanda did a fair impression of a fish while Duncan’s face went blank. The silence dragged on, and the tension escalated.

“Look, this definitely wasn’t our idea, but it is what it is,” Phoenix said, breaking the quiet. “We’re making it work.”

“Well, I think we all know what this means,” Amanda started, standing as she finally seemed to find her voice. “You are going to need a new wardrobe. We’ll be gone most of the afternoon, so you boys try not to get into too much trouble.”

Phoenix was slightly stunned as she was swept up in Amanda’s wake. Before getting pulled out the door, she turned back to Methos.

“I called Ianto, and he said he’d meet you two at Myfanwy’s warehouse in an hour. Good luck.”

And with a quick peck on the lips, she was towed out the door.

“Well, I guess that’s that,” Methos muttered.

He turned to look back at Duncan, who still had yet to say anything. The Highlander’s face was still blank, but there was a tempest of emotions behind his chocolate eyes. Methos sighed and leaned back against the kitchen island.

“If I could have picked anyone, it would have been you,” he said lowly. “Hell, I would have picked Fitzcairn before I picked me.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at Duncan’s lips at the mention of the late Immortal Casanova. He finally turned and looked at Methos square on.

“I think you’ll make a great father, Methos, despite what you might think.”

“That means a lot coming from you, Mac, thank you.”

“So, shall we get going to meet up with this student of yours?” Duncan asked, standing from the sofa.

“I’ll grab my sword, then we can go,” Methos replied, glad that any awkwardness had passed for the time being. For now, he would see that the Welshman met the Highlander.

* * *

_Five months later…_

Methos tucked the blanket in around Phoenix. Their quarters were warmer than the rest of the lower Hub, but her body had gone through severe stress, and he had no idea how her Immortality would affect her recovery.

A soft noise came from the far side of the bed, and he immediately stepped over. A glance inside the bassinet said that his daughter was still asleep. It had gotten a bit hairy, since she was early, but Owen assured him she was fine, just a bit small.

It was something he was still trying to process, even after months of preparing for her arrival. After five thousand years believing he would never be a father, eight months was a rather rapid turnaround.

Gently, so to be sure she wouldn’t wake, Methos lifted his daughter into his arms.

“You have no idea what a big deal your being here is, little one,” he murmured. “Your life is not going to be easy, and people are going to come after you just because of what you are, but I promise that you will never be alone.”

“You sure you can keep that promise?” came Jack’s voice softly from the door.

Methos looked up at his friend, “Yeah, I can. Because even if someone does take my head, or Anna’s, _you_ always come back.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Jack replied dryly.

“I’m serious, Jack. If we go, I’m charging you with looking after our little girl.”

“I promise,” Jack swore solemnly. “You gonna tell me her name?”

Methos smiled, looking back down at the newborn in his arms.

“Evynne Elizabeth Adams.”

“You gave her your current surname,” Jack noted.

“She was born to Ben Adams more than any of my other aliases. The man I am now and the man I was ten years ago are two vastly different creatures, and for more reasons that just the name.”

“And I can’t say I put up much fight in the matter,” Phoenix said tiredly from the bed. “Bring her over.”

Methos carried the newborn over to her mother, gently placing her in Phoenix’s outstretched arms.

“How hard are you having to hold the others back?” she asked after a moment of staring at her child; the fact that she had just given birth was incredibly surreal still, no matter how sore she was.

“Tosh sends her love, but she knows you’ll want your space for a bit,” Jack replied. “Gwen is chafing at the bit, but Owen’s handling her at the moment. Ianto says Duncan and Amanda are looking forward to meeting their goddaughter finally, but will wait until you get home.”

“Which will be at least a week,” Methos stated, sitting on the bed next to Phoenix. “I want to be absolutely sure the two of you are well before releasing you to the world.”

“Look out, world,” Jack chuckled.

Methos and Phoenix traded a look. That pretty much summed it up.

_Fin._


End file.
